


Not Quite the Master of Unlocking

by DangerousSummer



Category: VA-11 Hall-A (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, Multi, Non-Consensual Touching, Post-Canon, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 23:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20016766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousSummer/pseuds/DangerousSummer
Summary: On a slow night with no customers, Valhalla's jukebox shorts out and Dana has to leave to retrieve a spare part. Jill believes she's safe to man the bar alone, but a chance run-in with a mostly unknown gang turns the quietest night of the season around something fierce.





	Not Quite the Master of Unlocking

“Where's Gill gone to this time?”

“I gave up trying to answer that the last twenty times he's bounced,” Dana replied. “I think we have a few ideas, though. His past follows him like a bad smell, so at least he has the good sense to ventilate the bar when it gets too thick.”

“Sure, Boss. I like noir novels too.” Jill chuckled.

Business was rarely booming at Valhalla, even after narrowly avoiding closing down last season, but tonight was their slowest night of the winter. Glitch City's weather patterns were as chaotic as the gang wars raging throughout its districts, and especially so at this time of year. It was easy to assume its citizens would rather stay at home after a hard day's work than brave both the cold and the dangers of the street just for the burning sensation of alcohol.

Jill, despite gearing up in her work gear as usual ready for a hard night's day, had only noted two patrons in her two hours on staff; Alma popped in early for her usual musings of another one-night-stand gone awry, and Dorothy's bubbly demeanour carried about five minutes of the dragging night shift before she had to leave for her own job. The more things change, the more they stay the same, Jill mused to herself.

With only Jill and her boss around, the bar was a ghost town, the jukebox blasting out Dana's favourite playlist to a grand audience of two, the neon decorations casting gorgeous shadows on booths and bar stools. Though this gave the two ample opportunity to finally give the floor some TLC, with Jill mopping up the bar floor and Dana viciously scrubbing away at a nasty alcohol stain in the carpet. Jill wondered if her iron arm gave her an extra edge in cleaning. All this time under her employ and she still knew little about her boss' personal life. Though, in many ways, this was true in reverse too. And she liked it that way; even in her profession, nothing was ever gained by simply giving secrets away.

Jill's mental monologue was interrupted by the dying sputters of techno, the jukebox's last gasp sounding akin to a car engine cutting in and out. Finally, the music stopped, and the lights donning the jukebox gleamed their last.

Dana immediately dropped her sponge and rushed over, nearly knocking over the pail full of soapy water in the process.

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” she cursed. “If it's not one thing around here, it's another.”

Jill looked over from the other side of the bar she was tending to. “Do you think it can be fixed?”

“Hold on, I'm looking it over,” Dana replied, pulling the contraption from the wall to get a good look at the back. The rummaging of the jukebox's innards made quite the clattering sound, and a clutter on the floor. Dana was never much for mindfulness with electronics, but Jill thought the least she could do was keep the floor clean after all the work they spent the night doing.

“Blast it,” Dana yelled. “Main transistor's fried.”

Jill nearly smiled. “I'm surprised you know your electronics and you didn't just call it a 'doo-hickey'.”

“Keep that talk up and I won't 'do hickeys' to you.”

Jill guffawed. “Someone's been spending a lot of time with Dorothy recently.”

“Why not?” Dana replied. “She's a lovely girl. And one of our best customers. Not sure which is more important, honestly.”

Jill chuckled at this once more. Dana finally got up and walked over to Jill, charred electronic part in hand. It must have been the transistor she mentioned, clearly in no condition to transist anything ever again.

“I'm going to the pawn shop to see if they can help me out,” Dana said. “Think you can handle things on your own here?”

“I will be the Yggdrasil to your Valhalla, Boss,” Jill snarked, shuffling her mop and bucket back to the bathroom all the while. She knew she'd have to man the bar were there no one else to keep an eye on things.

“Leave the fantasy puns to me, girlfriend,” Dana snarked. She knew right where to hit Jill where it tickled. “I'm the one into noir fiction right now, aren't I?”

Jill was never quite sure what to think when her boss teased her like that. Everyone knew she was still dealing with the loss of Lenore, and everyone certainly accepted that, let the pigtailed bartender pace herself. But Dana knew that Jill wasn't immune to her charms either, and Jill knew that Dana knew. 

“Alright, Jill. I don't have to tell you to be careful. The bar's security system should keep out troublemakers, but I'll be back as soon as I can.” Dana called out as she left through the front door, leaving Jill to tend to the empty space. With no music to fill the air, Jill whipped out her phone, absent-mindedly scrolling through Augmented Eye's articles for the day. Fluff pieces about Kira*Miki's tour, too early buyer's guides for Mega Christmas, another look at the death spiral of the White Knights. Just another day in paradise.

Jill heard the front door open and close, but it took her a second to put her phone away, starting her greeting before she could crane her neck upwards from the screen.

“Welcome to Valhalla, what can...I...?”

Trouble approached, at a pace far too quick for a simple request for alcohol. Jill was staring down two punks. Gangsters to be sure, but none from a gang Jill could immediately recall. It would have made for a sad commentary on the level of safety in the streets, but any mental monologue Jill could muster was put on hold when one of the two gangsters grabbed Jill by the shoulders from across the bar and viciously pulled her over. Knocking over a freshly cleaned glass along the way, Jill was dragged across the counter and thrown onto the floor on the other side, wincing in pain.

“Ow! Motherfucker!” Jill howled. She strained to pick herself up, but a boot planted itself on her back violently. She couldn't even twist her head around from her position to get a good look at her assailant. A similar visual would present itself, however, when the second gangster walked around her body and kneeled down to look her in the eyes.

Jill, however, could not look back. The other gangster was wearing shades, bright chrome, with a pastel green spiked hairdo, gleaming leather jacket with various spikes and badges, ripped black jeans and dirty black boots. She looked straight out of a Shadowrun playbook. But something told Jill this gang wasn't around to topple any corporations, or they wouldn't be wasting time attacking a random bartender.

“Sorry, honey,” the gangster said as she gripped Jill's chin and tilted it upwards, “hope the silence for the last hour didn't ruin your night. Had to get the Red Comet out of here first.”

“Let me guess,” Jill said, almost spitting at the shady patron but thinking better of it. “You hacked the jukebox and made it break down.”

“That's right, sugar. Such an archaic piece of history is so easy to circumvent. I mean, don't you guys know streaming? Even venues like this ought to know owned media is a dying form. Really, you were just begging for us to come in here.”

“You say that,” Jill strained to get out with the man's boot still pressing into her back, “but I'm guessing you aren't here just because you don't like some bar's music.”

The woman let go of Jill's chin, but curiously started stroking her hair. The gangster's fingers danced through black pigtails, sifting through them like a broken Venetian blind. Jill could see her right hand currently working through her hair was bare, but her left, sitting by her side, was gloved. This really was a planned offence. Suddenly, the gangster looked up, behind Jill, presumably at the man pinning her down.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she snapped. “Get to work.”

“Right, Guv',” he growled.

Suddenly, Jill felt her arms being wrenched behind her and her hands being drawn together, being kept in place by the gangster's tight grip. As soon as she felt the texture of nylon rope wrapping around her wrists, she had a fair idea where this was going. Internally, she was sweating bullets, but keeping her cool on the exterior was still doable, albeit all too necessary.

“What the hell do you two want from me?” Jill snapped at the girl in front. “If it's just a robbery, we don't have cash on the premises. All your talk of obsolete relics and you don't understand paying digitally?”

The gangster, still combing through Jill's hair, coolly grinned. “Relax, sugar. We're not here to steal or break anything. We're just here to have some fun with the district's best bartender.”

Jill winced as the man finished tying her wrists together. Jill immediately waved her fingers around, trying to find a knot to pick and escape. Interestingly, the knot had been tied on the underside of her wrists, where she'd have to strain to even get her pinky to scrape it. Time experimenting with Lenore and diatribes with Dorothy on bondage told her this was an unorthodox choice, but it definitely meant she wasn't likely to get out of it on her own.

With no other option, Jill thrashed around as much as she could, trying to somehow wrench herself out of the rope, but this only antagonised the male punk, who slammed his knee on her and wrenched her left leg backwards, making thigh meet calf. 

“Alright, alright,” Jill crowed, wincing in pain. “I'm not getting out of this one, am I?”

“Now you understand, honey.”

“Well, I don't. I'd like to know why you'd go to all the trouble of hacking a diversion to get Dana out of here just to tie me up.”

The female gangster's smile was surprisingly warm and soft.

“Ain't you heard of us, honey?” she said. “We're RAG-Na. Too many gangs out there are out there on the streets striking fear into the poor peoples' hearts. We figure we can get away with much more minor misdemeanours. We're not here to hurt anyone.”

“Says you. I was just thrown over a counter-top and kneed in the back,” Jill scowled.

“Would you have let us do this if we just asked?” the male piped up from behind. He had spent the past minute tying Jill's left leg closed, but she had been too dazed to notice until he grabbed her other leg and bent it the same way, setting up for the third binding. Jill flexed her left leg a little and wiggled it as much as she could, but it was obvious she wasn't getting out of this one either.

“If you're wondering why we're picking you specifically,” the woman in front stated, standing up all the while, “we just think you're that cute. To die for, honey. I'm not surprised you don't recognise us, but we've been in the bar a few times, and we knew you'd have to be our next mark.”

Jill felt a little dizzy. She had so many questions and so little time to get to them all before, if she knew her corny damsel scenarios, she'd be stuffed with a few bar rags to complete the look. So she settled on, “I'm guessing you came here in normal peoples' clothing?”

“Pfft,” the gangster in front snorted, “RAG-Na never break character in public. We just used a hacked Lilim as a proxy.”

“A Lilim, huh? Why not hire one for your kicks, then?”

“Pfft,” the gangster snorted yet again, “do you know much their services cost? And we don't dare steal from them; unlike you, we know they're packing.”

The man was done wrapping Jill's right leg, and it was just as tightly bound as her left. After the man stood up, Jill wiggled around a bit, trying to scrape the side knots on the floor, or find something to unwind with her hands. But all the knots were on the outside of her legs; she wasn't grabbing anything any time soon. Though she knew it was irrational to continue, Jill kept lightly squirming. The two gangsters giggled in response, tittering like teenage girls.

The man walked around to Jill's front, lent down and stroked her hair in much the same way as his cohort. But for a mohawk for a haircut, Jill could see he was wearing the same garb. Finally, Jill spoke up.

“'Next mark'? Is this all RAG-Na does as a gang? Hack store security just to tie someone up for a few minutes?”

“Pretty much,” both gangsters said at the same time.

“I mean, bondage is kind of weird, isn't it?” The female gangster grinned down at Jill. “How could you enjoy being tied up when it literally means you're losing so much cognitive ability? Or how could you enjoy tying someone up when it's not that much different from tying down cargo? Or used chairs on the back of someone's trailer? But it's an itch in our brains we love scratching regardless.”

“Oh shit,” the man remarked as he walked back around to Jill's behind, “I almost forgot the finishing touch.” 

Fishing out another line of rope, the man grabbed Jill's bound wrists and anchored them to her ankles, winding rope through her high heels for extra tension. Winding her hands to both feet, Jill was left in a perfect, classical hogtie.

“But like I said,” the female gangster continued, “we're not here to hurt anyone. Come to think of it, I guess that's why we never appear on the news. Glitch City has too much on its plate besides.”

“Well, you've certainly ruined my night,” Jill said, shifting around once more, thoroughly tied down. “Why not just stick a cloth over my mouth and get it over with?”

“Wow, we have calmed down, haven't we, darling?” the woman mused.

“I just know when I'm beat,” Jill shrugged as much as she could. “Besides, I'd take this over another corgi night in our bar.”

The man scooted over to the bar's counter. Amidst the broken glass was a dirty rag, a little tinged to indicate its having been used to scrub alcohol. A small sorted pile of clean rags sat at the end of the bar, recently washed. The gangster grabbed the rags and practically ran back to Jill, eager to begin.

“Is this the part where you say 'any last words'?” Jill scoffed out. She had to get her kicks in where she could at this point; she wasn't about to get any literal ones in.

“Na, we're just gonna get to it,” the man said, kneeling down and grabbing Jill by the chin with his left hand and pressing the rag to her lips with his right. With slow, bitter resignation, Jill opened her mouth and let the rag invade her orifice. Jill almost retched from both the stench and the taste, her tongue picking up bitter absinthe and dirt. The man shoved another balled-up rag in Jill's mouth for good measure, before tying her mouth off with a cleave gag. A finishing touch was added in the form of a folded rag across the bottom half of her face, resting just under her nose.

“And this is the part where we ask how you're feeling and you try to answer us,” the female gangster mused, grinning all the while.

“Llkk thhsshh?” Jill tried to answer.

“Exactly, sweetheart.” Again with that strangely warm smile. Jill found that the creepiest part of this engagement.

“And this is the part,” the man piped up, “where we tell you you're on camera!”

“Whhht?!” Jill yelled through her gag. She frantically thrashed around in anger, but didn't succeed in anything but tiring herself out. Suddenly, all the danger of the scenario had come right back.

“What do you think the shades are for, darling?” the female punk said. “The streaming world eats this shit up, and we gotta finance this gig somehow. But again, it's still cheaper than hiring a Lilim. And...”

The female gangster kneeled down again to grasp at Jill's cheeks, her fingers pressing through the white bar rag over top to stroke her face.

“We just love embarrassing our prey. It's another itch we need to scratch.”

“Lhhme gho!” Jill snapped, firey eyes glaring at her captor. She could feel her uniform getting wet through the recently mopped floors, and her mouth felt quite sour and dry from her gag. She was more uncomfortable than ever before.

“I think we got all the footage we need for tonight, Guv'.” The man clamoured.

“Yeah, you're right,” the other gangster replied. “It's a shame, I think this might be our favorite plaything yet. So cool, up until the last act.” She continued to stroke Jill's face for a few seconds more, before standing up and making for the exit, leaving Jill's point of view and leaving her to stare at the floor in anger.

As the two gang members opened to the door, the woman turned back to shout.

“Ta-ta, darling! I'd blow you a kiss, but I'd be afraid you'd fall in love, and that'd take all the gratuity out of it.”

“Fffhhhck yhh!” Jill spat out as much venom as she could at the crew behind her. Finally, the door closed, and Jill was left alone. The quietest night of the season had become so, again. Jill shifted in her bindings once more, but couldn't move much without feeling gross and tired. She sighed through the gag and simply waited, uncomfortable as it was.

It would be a whole other hour before Dana returned.

**Author's Note:**

> Done as part of a 'questo' for a kink Discord. Let me know what you think!


End file.
